“You’re actually watching a DVD?” He looks at me like I’ve lost my mind.
I shrug. “They were my mom’s.”
A brow shoots up. “Were?”
I’m treading on unfamiliar ground here. I don’t want to talk about my parents. It’s embarrassing enough that people I grew up with know what they did. Even worse when I’m supposed to explain every little detail of my parents’ fall from grace to new people in my life.
So I keep my mouth shut.
“She didn’t want the set anymore so she gave it to me. I started watching it and got hooked.” I lean over to look at my menu options, eager to change the subject. “Season three is my current favorite.”
“What, the different seasons vie to be your favorite?” He looks over at me, the glow from my laptop illuminating his face and making him look extra pretty. It doesn’t hurt that I actually have this man in my bed.
In my bed. I can’t get over it.
“It depends on my mood, but seriously, this season is awesome. It taught me the term golden shower.” Tristan makes a face and I giggle. “The girls go to Los Angeles and have wild adventures. I learned about bad karma and what comes around, goes around. But my favorite episodes are when Carrie hooks up with Big even though he’s married.”
Tristan frowns. “Why is that?”
“Her struggle is so…real.” I don’t know how to describe it and I feel sort of dumb for advocating episodes that involve cheating. But my heart hurts for her every time I watch them. And when Charlotte catches the two of them walking down the street together, she’s so angry, and Carrie feels so guilty…
Lately I’ve been feeling like that. Struggling. Guilty. Conflicted. And most of those feelings have to deal with the man who’s sitting next to me. In my bed, might I remind you.
“It’s also the season that gave us funky spunk,” I blurt out.
Tristan’s head whips toward mine when I say that. “Excuse me?”
My cheeks go warm. “Samantha gives a blowjob to some guy—”
“That’s the slutty one, right?” he interrupts.
I send him a look. “She’s the more—adventurous one, yes—anyway when he, uh, comes in her mouth.” Yeah, describing this episode is way more embarrassing than I anticipated, especially with how closely he’s watching me. “It tastes awful. And so she says he has funky spunk.”
“I want to see this episode,” Tristan immediately says.
“I can just tell you about it,” I offer.
“No.” He shakes his head. “I need to see it. Come on, load it up.”
And this is how we end up watching the funky spunk episode together. There are all sorts of other things going on. Charlotte gets engaged, Carrie finds out that Big is getting a divorce and Miranda’s pissed at Steve but Tristan only perks up when Samantha appears on screen.
Of course. The various blowjob scenes and spunk talk are all kinds of awkward but he laughs in all the right places and so do I. I blush when we see the actor’s naked butt and can’t help but wonder if Tristan has a nice naked butt…
Which I’m sure he does. It’s good enough clothed. I can’t imagine seeing it naked.
“I’m reluctantly saying this,” he admits once the episode is over. “But that was hilarious.”
“Samantha is funny,” I agree.
“They’re all funny.” He turns to meet my gaze, his little smile, his nearness stealing my breath. “Let’s watch another one.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah.” He nods. “I think I want more Samantha.”
We binge on three more episodes, ones I chose that highlight Samantha’s sexual antics. The episode with the guy who has a huge penis is his favorite one of them all.
Figures.
“I can relate,” he says sleepily once the episode is over. His head sinks into the pile of pillows he’s laying on, his eyes at half-mast. “Not that you’d never know since you’ve never seen my big D.”
“Are you for real?” I mock glare at him and he chuckles.
“I can show you now if you want. Though you might want to do some intensive yoga and light up a joint so you can get good and relaxed first.” He lifts his brows. “Gotta prepare so you can take it deep.”
“Oh my God, shut up.” I make to shove him but he grabs my hand and rubs his palm against mine slowly, the slight friction seeming to cause sparks to light up between us. I watch breathlessly as he curls his fingers around mine, drawing his out before pressing them back in so that we’re holding hands, like kids.
But the way he touches me doesn’t feel kid-like. My skin buzzes where we connect, his deft fingers moving over mine lightly, making me shiver.
“I like your hands,” he admits, his voice low and sexy. “They’re so soft.”
His are not. They are just rough enough to feel manly and rugged and I like it. He’s still toying with my fingers, pulling our hands apart so he can flip mine over and examine my palm, tracing the lines there with his index finger. His touch is feather light. When I lift my head I find that he’s already watching me with those dark, turbulent eyes.
“I think you’ve converted me,” he whispers and I blink at him.
“Converted you to what?”
“Sex and the City.” He smiles and shifts so his head is closer to mine. “I’m a total fan.”
“You only watched four episodes,” I point out.
“I’ll watch more. I’ll watch them all.” His smile grows. “That’ll give me a good excuse to come over here more often. Not that I need one.”
Arrogant Tristan is bad enough. Cute, sweet Tristan is ten times worse and I didn’t think that was possible. All I can do is stare at him in wonder, curious over what’s happening in that brain of his. What is he thinking? What is he doing? What are his motives?
I don’t know. I almost don’t want to know. I’d rather think he was into me and I’m into him and we’re just having a good time.
It’s simpler that way.
“You like coming over here to play video games with the guys?” I ask quietly.
He slowly shakes his head and comes even closer, readjusting himself so he’s lying on his side and I’m flat on my back, his head hovering over mine. I gaze up at him, trembling as I wait for him to make the next move. “I’m here for you.” He dips his head and brushes my mouth with his. More sparks fly. I’m surprised we haven’t set each other on fire yet. “The only reason I’ve ever come here is for you.”
There’s no more talking. The kiss is soft, an exploration, a question. I part my lips easily, inviting him in, eager to deepen the kiss. Our tongues circle and search, his arm stretches across my stomach, his hand resting lightly at my waist. I reach up to touch his face, skim my fingers over his cheek, trace the line of his firm jaw. His skin is warm, covered in scratchy stubble. I’ve never allowed myself to touch him like this before, not really. I always kept myself reined in, scared to want too much, to take too much.
But tonight, I want to take. Just a little. Just enough to satisfy my curiosity.
He breaks the kiss first and I open my eyes to find him watching me, his lips damp, his hair hanging over his forehead. He drops a kiss on the tip of my nose. My cheek. My other cheek. My forehead. Tender, sweet kisses I would never associate with Tristan the player but I’m starting to think there’s more to him. A side he doesn’t show anyone. One I’d like to see more of.
“I should go,” he whispers against my cheek, his breath hot.
“Really?” I croak. I’m stunned. He’s going to…leave? Now? “You um, said we were going to make out.”
“If I keep this up it’ll be more than making out.” He rolls over so he’s flat on his back, resting his arms on his chest, hands linked, fingers laced together. “I’m trying to take it slow.”
“Why?”
He smiles and rises up on his elbows. “Because I think you might be worth it.” I lean in and he cups the back of my head, kissing me. “Because I want to do right by you.” Another kiss, this one incredibly soft, his lips lingering on mine before he reluctantly pulls away, his hand slipping from my hair. “Because I want to make sure you really want this. Want me.”